


What is left

by Liarde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sherlock (TV) Fusion, Angst, Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, One Shot Collection, Suffering, death mentioned, suicidal attempts mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liarde/pseuds/Liarde
Summary: Angst One Shot Collection.Status: always finishedThe title comes from the following qoute:"I'm wrapping myself around what's left, your coat.And smile.Rotting inside". (c) Лаура Грей





	1. What is left

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [То, что осталось](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/357462) by Илли. 



\- Where is it?

\- What?

\- You know what.

\- Your coat? Here it is.

\- Great! Now I can be back to Baker Street.

\- I highly doubt you may live on Baker Street 221 again. See, there's a new office centre now. They don't rent flats.

\- What...?

\- See, the house was destroyed two years ago. There used to live one chemist in apartment B... He had a habit of leaving reagents lie about. So he shove a test tube with sulfur acid into the cupboard.

You seem paled, brother. Take a seat please. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Acid. You see, no one paid attention. There were more important things to think about... burial, wake... When cupboard's door wouldn't lock, somebody just slaped it. The tube got smashed. These ordinary people are so non-observant... don't you think? No one noticed how acid corroded through the bottom of the cupboard, then counter top and, finally, gus pump lying right under that place.

What's wrong, Sherlock? You're gasping. Are you catching for breath? You've never even asked what was happening at home after your fake death. Are you interested? Should I go on? Well, fine.

As I've already mentioned, there was the wake in the house. Gas explosion killed twelve people, four of which in apartment B. The neigbour of this absent-minded chemist, sweet housewife, certain Scotland Yard inspector who came to support his friend and a young pretty female coroner accompanying him for the same reason. Such a painful incedent, don't you think? So many victims...

What's wrong, Sherlock? Did you really think that your "death" would press "the pause button" and everything here would remain the same?

Whiskey, my dear brother? Don't get depressed. You still have your coat left.


	2. The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PostReihnbach  
> Psychological disorder  
> Mentions of suicidal attempt

John is ascending the stairs to the roof.   
John is looking down at the city.   
He hates this city.   
This deceiving city.   
It was easy to believe in the new life.   
It is so difficult and meaningless to gather the shatters.   
The city lies.   
The city lives and claims that he can live as well.   
The city lies.   
It shows hundreds, thousands faces.   
Similar faces.   
The city laughs mockingly when observing John rushing into the crowd at the glimpse of the familiar attentive glance.   
The city teases showing him mirages in the reflections of shop windows.   
The city makes fun of him looking from black cars with tinted windows.   
John knows that he is running mad.   
That's why he is ascending the stairs to he roof.   
John is coming closer to the edge.   
The wind is toying with his hair, stroking his cheeks.   
John's phone is ringing.   
The city grants him with the final illusion.   
There, long way down he is seeing someone who cannot be found,   
The city's final farewell. So kind and warm.   
John is throws the phone to the side with a familiar motion and stays there, arms stretched out wide.   
John is making a step.   
John is smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rechenbach

Sherlock is sitting on the floor, his cheek rest against the nightstand.   
Like this he can only see John's right palm overhanging from the bed.   
But this position has it's advantages - if John wakes up, he won't notice him.   
Sherlock is intently looking at John's palm.   
Yesterday, just several hours ago, they were running together chained to each other and Sherlock was holding his hand.   
Warm, strong, firm hand.   
Sherlock's nervous fingers were in comfort there.   
Tomorrow, just several hours later, Sherlock would die.   
John doesn't know that Sherlock is here now. And he never would.   
Sherlock has only a few minutes of this night - between yesterday and tomorrow.   
He is squeezing up against the nightstand, the glance of dry eyes locked at John's palm.   
But in reality he is crying all inside*.   
* quote from C.D.Simak


End file.
